Will you come feed me when I’m hungry?

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Will you come feed me when I’m hungry
it’s not my belly I’m in pain
surrender all my fears and worry
and give me shelter from my shame
the taste is bitter disappointment
the tears keep rolling off my cheek
will you come feed me when I’m hungry
will you come hold me when I’m weak

Will you come clothe me when I’m naked
it’s not my body that’s exposed
so many different jobs I’ve asked for
and still I’m walking down the road
the shirts are hanging in my closet
my pants are worn around the knees
will you come clothe me when I’m naked
will you come hold me when I’m weak

Will you admit me if its early
I’m giving up and letting go
please Lord forgive me for my question
but I feel lost and so alone
so many faces won’t accept me
I’ve fallen down upon my knees
will you come feed me cause I’m hungry
Lord come and hold me now I’m weak ©

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Don’t forget to love somebody

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For the good in everybody
we can’t find you when you’re home
for the lost and lonely people
we can’t hold you when you’re gone
for the one who seeks protection
in the bottle or a gun
don’t forget to love somebody
don’t forget to love someone

When the children need their mothers
will the fathers have their sons
when somebody hurts their daughters
will their brothers be the ones
to provide and give direction
and a hand to walk them home
don’t forget to love somebody
don’t forget to love someone

You can see it in the bible
do you see it in yourself
do you think someone will find you
if they’re lost and need your help
in a world of hungry people
is it only flesh and bone
don’t forget to love somebody
don’t forget to love someone ©

This warm and pretty day

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Well I’m out here
I could tell you
bout a thousand from my home
I could tell you I’ve been troubled
and I’m out here on my own
where the miles keep
the bottles empty
and the worry washed away
but the truth is
what’s the use when
I’m lookin’ out on
a pretty day

and the money
ain’t what it used to
be and many
are feelin’ down
and our dreams are
down the tubes while
there isn’t anyone around
I could tell you
bout the nights
without the lights
just lie awake
but the truth is
what’s the use when
the Lord has made us
a pretty day

I’ll pretend I’m goin’ fishin’
instead of wishin’ I was gone
and my friends you’re always welcome
to pack a bag and come along
we could talk about
the good times
set beside me
wash away
with a cold one
in the sunshine
of this warm and pretty day ©

For the ones holdin’ on

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It’s bound to get better
for the ones holdin’ on
but I’ll never forget
all the ones dead and gone
on the road with a letter
folded up in my jeans
tellin’ me it gets better
on the roads yet to be

and it’s bound to get better
there’s a God up above
askin’ me when’s the time
I’ll start showin’ more love
on the road with a letter
tellin’ me to remember
that its bound to get better
for the ones holdin’ on

and it’s bound to get better
for the ones holdin’ on
to the folded up letters
with
 the words of a song
and our voices together
we can sing it forever
and it’s bound to get better
for the ones holdin’ on©

Ode to the road

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In the eyes of my mother
packed a trunk and I went
cause I heard from my dreams
there’s a road I was meant
like a song that was written
for a drifter like me
where harmonicas play
and a man can walk free

I met lovers and fighters
and people they know
talkin’ bout goin places
they weren’t supposed to go
and I asked what they meant
in the land of the free
and they told me the places
kept a secret from me

there’s a country club out there
with walls you can’t climb
and a white house with fences
they keep locked all the time
where they make all their honey
by the work of the bees
and they keep all their money
from the ones with the need

so I walked down the highway
tween night and the day
thinkin’ bout Woody Guthrie
and the songs he would play
bout a homeland with fightin’
keeping out its own blood
and the children heard cryin’
left to die in the mud

I remember big brothers
used to hold out their hand
by the fireside listenin’
to my dear uncle Sam

as he’d talk about fishin’
and he talked about times
when the same words were written
on both sides of the signs

now my big brothers watchin’
but he won’t hold my hand
and my uncle builds fences
keepin’ me from my land
and my mama she needs me
but my uncles at home
and he lives off expenses
while the poor die alone©

The Blue Collar Dies

SAMSUNG

34 years I’ve been walking a dream
down the roads and the highways
all the places I’ve seen
don’t prepare me for nothing
say the robots online
between me and employment
stands a sign of the times

ask me “how am I doing”
and I’ll say “doin’ fine”
without work or a home
you can see that I’m lyin’
just an American worker
trampled on by the plans
of the rich in the times
that make mice out of men

and the rich just get richer
while the blue collar dies
on the streets with a pitcher
beggin’ quarters and dimes
while the pigs have a feast
on the profits and plans
of the hopes and the dreams
of the blue collar man

and you tell me keep lookin’
without using your eyes
see the only things cookin’
more political lies
it’s control alt delete
and the babies are cryin’
with no shoes on our feet
it’s a sign of the times©

 


Match stick of the morning

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It’s a dark and lonely morning
in the beating of my heart
and I’ve run too many miles
to watch this world just fall apart
and my boots can’t walk the scene
forgotten words and reasons why
love it comes, and so it goes
like seasons change inside the mind

Lord my candles running empty
as the pockets of my jeans
and the child inside my heart’s
forgot his lullabies and dreams
I’ve been seen by all the takers
I’m a thousand miles from home
and
 this road keeps gettin’ darker
walkin’ miles and miles alone

Past the curtain they’re a callin’
while the puppet cuts the strings
and the masters, they’re a waitin’
with the movement of the kings
as I wander out the doorway
begging change to pay my mind
lookin’ for some destination
still I’m feelin’ far behind

There’s a wind I hear a callin’
blowin’ change inside the man
there’s the sin that keeps us fallin’
cross the surface of the sand
with a fire by the matches
in the pockets of my jeans
this ol’ worlds just gettin’ started
time to wake up from the dream  ©